You Are the Everything
by s1ncer1ty
Summary: On an aching night following the full moon, Remus wants nothing more than the peace of the stars and Sirius' comfort; while for Sirius, peace doesn't come quite so easily. Remus/Sirius slashiness.


"You Are the Everything"   


A/N: Sort of a follow-up to "Chiaroscuro." If you haven't read it, all you really need to know is that this fic takes place after the full moon, while Sirius is "lying low" at Remus' following _Goblet of Fire_. Slashy goodness abounds, Remus/Sirius. Flamers will be summarily fed to Fluffy. o.o

_All you hear is time stand still in travel   
You feel such peace and absolute stillness, still   
That doesn't end but slowly drifts into sleep   
The stars are the greatest thing you've ever seen   
And they're there for you   
For you, alone, you are the everything. _

_~~ R.E.M. _

_I hurt. _Everything in me -- from my numb, aching ankles to the top of my scalp, where even the tips of my hair seem to throb -- feels as if it has just been given a breathless reprieve from a particularly agonizing round of the _Cruciatus_ curse. The hurt is particularly exacting behind my eyes, where the tension headaches always cluster the day after the full moon, as I am recovering. There is a behemoth of a headache beginning to settle there now. The moment I close my eyes, the world seems to lurch like a carpet being swiftly yanked from beneath my feet. So closing my eyes just won't do, not until my equilibrium manages to level off once again. 

But in spite of the pain that has settled deep into my very bones, I still manage to stagger down the front porch, past the copse of trees that surround my tiny house to the field that lies beyond the property line. It is dark outside, but I have a glimmer of silver fire in my hand and the shimmer of a mercifully waning moon to light my way. 

I don't bother with blankets or sheets; instead, once I find a secure position from which to watch the stars, I fall directly to the grass and let each individual blade brush coolly against my skin. Dimly, as I ease my head back upon the grass and gaze up at the nightly display of stars above, I let my thoughts wander to the man I'd left behind, the one currently breathing soft dreams beneath a haze of magical light. 

_Sirius Black. _

I had been too restless, too wracked with the sharp, grinding pain of bones re-settling, muscle tissue throbbing as it sprung back into its normal place, to have given him any semblance of solid sleep. I'd kept him awake the past three nights as he ran himself ragged to keep my beast at bay; the following mornings, he'd lie awake as I'd struggle to hold back the tears of pain until I finally gave in to them and let myself drift into a dazed, nightmare-plagued sleep. 

He deserves rest, if for nothing else than holding fast to my side, as Padfoot, through a transformation that has only gotten more arduous with the years. 

A soft cry startles me from my reverie, a low voice floating upon the wind and swirling about my thoughts as if borne by magical means. Knowing that such a cry could only come from one person, I slip my hand inside my robes and pull out my wand -- slender rowan, with a single unicorn hair at its heart -- and with a whispered incantation send a hail of white, butterfly sparks towards the sky. 

He comes running, dressed in nothing but the usual loose pants he wears to bed, chest bare and black hair billowing out in a fan behind him. With a whisper, I fan the flames of the magical silver light, becoming a brighter beacon on the vast field. When he reaches me, his hollowed, emaciated chest heaves with the exertion, and I recall with an aching heart how he had always been so fit when he was young. Now, the wasting years in Azkaban are painfully apparent in how easily he is winded, and in each rib visible through thin skin. 

"Where -- where were you?" he demands, leaning forward so his hands rest upon his knees as he catches his breath. 

"I wanted to go for a walk. You were asleep," I return easily. 

"Remus, it's dark! And you -- you're in no condition to be out!" he gasps. 

"I'm a grown man, Sirius. Though I am grateful for your concern," I say, the edges of my lips quirking up in a faint smile. 

He scowls as he falls in an unceremonious heap to the ground beside me. "You shouldn't be out," he repeats. 

"The moon is waning," I say casually as I settle back upon the ground again, arms lacing behind my head. The dull pain still settled in the small of my back eases again as I lie down. "It has no further influence upon me until next month." 

"What if you needed me?" Dropping his tone to a whisper and his eyes towards the grass, he adds faintly, "What if I needed you?" 

"I'm certain that you'd have found me, in either case. You found me now, haven't you?" 

He makes a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat and settles his body close to my own. With a soft murmur of, "_Lumos_," I will the gentle silver flames brighter still and toss them into the air where they hang like a shimmering canopy above us. He keeps his back to me as he curls his arms around his knees, and I count each vertebrae that is easily seen through thin skin and an almost scoliotic curve to his back. He lets me touch him, reassuring him of my presence as I trail my fingertips down that very lightly skewed spine. 

I know that even with me at his side, he is uncomfortable, fearful of the darkness after thirteen years spent scuttling in the shadows of Azkaban and hiding from the blackened cowl of the Dementors -- yet I also know that his stay in the great, ominous wizard prison had never completely doused his brilliant, roguish essence. That thought alone keeps me from falling into despair over doubting his trust for over thirteen years... 

I remember his first kiss, comforting and reassuring, dragging me from a self-imposed melancholy the first night of my transformation. I recall how his lips had pressed softly upon my own, and his hesitation as I'd sought to deepen the tender moment with the touch of my tongue. He had drawn away swiftly, as if in shock of his actions -- indeed, I had been surprised myself -- and had stammered a rapid apology. I would have none of it, and I had held him instead, allaying his own fears of meaning and of blurred boundaries. 

Three nights later, he hadn't even mentioned that sweet, reassuring kiss. Yet I so longed for the feel of his lips against mine once again. 

"Sirius?" I whisper as I push myself to my elbows, fighting to keep the aching muscles from collapsing entirely. 

"Yes?" he murmurs, inclining his head towards mine, ice blue eyes glittering with an unreadable expression beneath the silvery, magical light. 

Sitting up straighter, I reach across and graze his cheek with the backs of my fingertips. "May I?" 

"What is it you want?" he whispers, brows rising in surprise. 

"I want to kiss you, Sirius. May I?" I repeat. 

He doesn't answer -- not with words, at any rate. His eyes close, forehead wrinkling in a moment of tense indecision, before he dips his chin in an almost imperceptible nod. I am gentle, as gentle to him as he had been to me, for I know that whether he admits it or not, he's frightened. I touch my lips to his, soft and comforting. 

I don't want to push him too quickly, yet as I shift closer, I feel a hand slide across to my cheek, holding me firmly to him and alleviating some of the ache that has settled in my shoulders and neck. Lips part to meet the delicate probe of his tongue, hesitant yet eager all at once. There's no doubt that he's kissed before, but it has been almost thirteen years since the last instance. Though out of practice, his touch is sweet, fumbling and resolute at the same time. 

As I lean closer to him, he releases a sighing breath, and his kiss deepens, tongue probing with greater insistence against my own. I match his speed, circling my hands around his bare back and pulling him to me. His chest flutters in a dull moan against mine, and his lips pull from my own and slide down my neck. I can't help but gasp as his teeth graze in gentle electric nips against my skin. My hands slide uncontrollably up and down his spine as I whisper his name aloud. 

"Sirius... Sirius."

"Don't -- don't wolves mate for life?" he asks between kisses. 

"They do," I murmur breathlessly. "But I'm not a wolf." 

"I'm sorry," he whispers, suddenly turning away, the fluttering kisses to my lips and my neck ceasing. 

"No, Sirius," I say quickly, grasping his chin in my hand and turning his face towards me. Glimmering blue eyes meet my own with hesitation. "Don't be sorry. There's no need to be." 

"Oh, Remus," he whispers, and pulls me to him once more, lips and tongue tangling with mine again. He is forgiven, even if there is nothing to forgive. 

The heat of his lips, the press of his chest upon mine -- it's unduly intoxicating, and I cannot help but moan deep in the back of my throat. Leaning forward, I take him in my arms, pressing him towards the ground, and he falls to the grass with a muted thump. Atop him, my legs wrap around his, hips almost seeming to interlock, the press of my robe's fabric becoming a friction-filled tease. 

Suddenly, I'm nipping fiercely at his lips, his cheeks, the side of his neck, and he arches his bare chest against me, mewling. The robes are much, too much. Even as I continue to slip my tongue insistently against his, I push up onto my elbows in an awkward, slightly pained effort to wrest them from my shoulders. He tugs at the heavy fabric as well, and his breath fans hot upon my lips as we break apart for but a few precious seconds so I can force the robes from my shoulders. And then, I fall upon him once more, a steady panting of sweat-slicked chests, a teasing grind upon his hips. 

Before I know it, my hands have snaked from a teasing caress around his navel beneath the hem of his pants. His entire body seems to seize, every muscle tensing for several seconds before he gives himself to my touch. I almost think better of my action, until he arches his hips against the circle of my hand around him. His fingertips flutter like butterflies across my spine, delighting as they find the sensitive spot at the small of my back, and I can't suppress a breathless moan in the shape of his name. 

"Sirius..." 

The plaintive moan is enough to send him to the brink in a premature, jarring climax. He throws his head back with a shuddering cry as great ripples of sudden, uncontrollable desire echo through his beautiful, slender frame, his chest heaving with pleasure-laden gasps. A sweet, sticky warmth flows between my fingertips before I collapse against him, holding him against the shudders that continue to wrack his body even after the climax has ebbed. 

It is some moments before I realize that he is holding me in a tremblingly tight embrace, head buried against my shoulder. Panting, I brush my fingers of my free hand through his damp hair, and he shivers uncontrollably. "Sirius?" 

"Don't," he whispers into my shoulder. 

"What is it?" I try to push myself up onto my elbows again, but he holds me fast. 

"Don't ask. Don't talk. Please, Remus," he utters hoarsely. 

I close my eyes against a well of doubt, wincing internally as every shiver of his ripples through my soul. All I can do is hold him, stroke the ends of his hair, and provide what little comfort I can, until the shakes begin to subside and his arms loosen their suffocating grip around me. 

"Remus?" he finally whispers, breath hot against my ear as he breaks the uncomfortable silence that has settled between us. 

"What is it, Sirius?" 

"You --" he utters awkwardly. "You can't do that, ever again." 

I close my eyes and nod, murmuring, "I didn't think --" 

He cuts me off with a sudden, defensive edge to his voice. "That's right, you _didn_'t think." He begins to squirm from my embrace, and I sit up gingerly to accommodate him. 

"Then why did you let me?" I reach over and gather my robes in my arms, feeling oddly exposed beneath his angered glare. 

"Because -- you were happy. It made you happy." He turns his eyes towards the ground, face a mix of confusion and annoyance -- and, beneath it all, an immense, almost tangible sadness. 

"Did it make _you_ happy?" I murmur softly. "That's the important question." 

As his anger gives way to this looming, steadily swelling sorrow, his jaw tightens, the lines on his brow becoming all the more pronounced, and he nods reluctantly. I resist the urge to pull him fast into my arms, knowing that to do so may very well give him cause to retreat once again. 

"You know," I say in a quiet tone, "it's quite alright to be happy, if that's what you want." 

He is silent for several moments as he struggles to clamp down on his emotions once again. When he speaks, his voice is somewhat hoarse. "There's nothing that I want more. It's just --" His voice drops to a whisper as he adds grudgingly, "I'm afraid." 

"Of?" I prompt gently. 

"You don't know what it was like in Azkaban," he whispers, words falling from his lips in a rapid jumble, as if a reluctant dam had suddenly burst. "The entire prison is just devoid of life, of emotion -- of anything and everything remotely good. Like a great, weakening abyss that grinds you down. That's really the worst of it, Remus -- just knowing that you can't go quickly. That slowly, steadily, everything that you are will be sucked from you until you're nothing but an empty shell." 

As he speaks, I reach across and place a hand on his shoulder, and although he flinches, he doesn't pull away. 

"I can't be happy. After thirteen years of suppressing all thoughts of my family, of James and Lily, and of everything I left behind -- even you, Remus... I don't know if I can do it again." 

"Azkaban is behind you now, Sirius," I murmur softly. 

"No, it's never behind me," he replies quickly, eyes snapping to mine with a sudden terror. "What if I'm caught again?" 

"They'll have to go through me first. And Albus Dumbledore." 

To my surprise, his lips begin to tremble, his jaw setting tightly, and two great, guilty tears spill from the corners of his eyes. I resist the urge to wipe them away. "Remus, don't. I couldn't stand it if the Dementors took you from me." 

"There are those of us who know great magics necessary to hold their ground against Dementors --" 

"It's not just physically either," he continues, words continuing to flow of their own accord. "If I went back to the Dementors, you would be the first thing they'd burn from my mind... You and the happiness you've made for me." A growl of frustration escapes his lips, and he buries his face into his hands, spinning fully away from me. 

"Oh, Sirius," I murmur. I let my robes fall to the wayside and creep unsteadily upon bruised hands and knees to face him. Placing my hands atop his own, I pull them from his face, even as he struggles to keep his tears hidden. "I need you to look at me. No, _look_ at me," I add more firmly as he twists his head to avoid my gaze. 

His eyes lock with my own, overflowing with a horrified mix of anger, shame, and tears. The sternness fades from my expression once I have his attention, and I brush a loose, slightly damp strand of black hair from his eyes. 

"I'd have thought that, if nothing else, Azkaban might have taught you to cherish those precious moments of happiness. It's all too, too short to be hiding from demons of what might be." 

"Remus, I --" 

"No, Sirius, let me finish. You said your piece, and I will say mine," I offer softly. "Azkaban is in the past. I won't lie and say that you are safe from its walls, because you're not. You're still in great danger while Sirius Black, the wizarding world's most wanted criminal, remains at large. But while you're out, while you're free, you do yourself the gravest of dishonors by denying yourself even a little bit of happiness." 

"I don't deserve to be happy," he says as I give a moment's pause. "What about Harry? I can't rest while there's still the threat of Voldemort... And Wormtail." 

I shudder faintly at both reviled names spoken aloud, and I shake my head. "What can you do for Harry Potter now? He may be living with those horrible Dursley Muggles, but it is the safest place he may be for the time being." 

"But what if he needs us?" Eyes wide, filled with fear and uncertainty, meet pensively with my own. 

"Then we will go to him. Until that time, there is nothing more that we can do but wait for Dumbledore's instructions." 

"It seems so far away," he whispers reluctantly. The tear-tracks upon his cheeks have since dried, but his voice remains slightly shaky. 

"You've spent so long living in the future that you forget what it's like to experience the present," I say gently. 

"Do you blame me?" he asks. "If you'd been to Azkaban, you'd know... My plans for the future, of just finding Wormtail and squeezing his traitorous throat until he stopped moving, were the only things that kept me from losing my mind. I could never focus upon the present." 

"You used to do nothing but live in the present as a young boy," I say with a quiet smile. "Some part of you deep down must remember..." 

"Help me, Remus," he whispers, brows furrowing once again. "Help me to remember..." 

I wrap my arms around him, pulling him gingerly to me, and he buries his face into my bare chest. I rest my head atop his own, brushing my cheek against the soft mane of inky black hair, cut shoulder length since his escape from Azkaban. "Always, old friend," I mumble, giving a quick kiss to the top of his head. 

Again, the silence stretches between us, broken only by an occasional chirp of crickets or a fluttering of darkened bat wings fluttering away from the magical light above us. He is warm, so very warm, enough to keep my mind from the dull throbbing at the base of my spine and in my shoulders. 

"Do you remember when you were young, Remus, and had no fear?" he finally asks, wistfully. 

"No, I don't," I say with a sad smile. 

"Remus," he chides, inclining a concerned gaze to meet with my own. "I don't mean your monthly fear of the moon, or the constant fear we had of Voldemort at the height of his power. I mean, do you remember a time when we'd sneak across the grounds of Hogwart's, even though we knew old Filch would be ready to skin us alive if we were caught? When we'd fly our broomsticks to the highest trees and see how long each of us could stay aloft? When we'd risk our lives and our fingertips at the hands of kappas and murtlaps --" 

"And flobberworms?" I interject. 

He releases a very faint snicker. "Yes, and flobberworms, in Care of Magical Creatures class? Do you recall?" 

"I remember it being the best time of my life, fear or no fear." 

"Do you think we can recapture those times ever again?" 

"Haven't you learned by now, Sirius?" I ask gently, suppressing a tired yawn. "Anything is possible." 

"When you're not so sore, will you fly with me again?" His voice is almost shy, and I nuzzle my nose against his hair again. 

"I'd like that," I murmur, shutting my eyes against the wind that caresses and cools my cheeks. 

The blackness of his hair, the blackness of the night sky -- together, the stars may be the second greatest thing I've ever experienced, preceded only by the incident with Wormtail in the Shrieking Shack, when a single hug shattered thirteen years of deception and self-imposed misery. I am with him again, Sirius Black, flying into the stars, the wind swirling past my face. We may be a little older, a little greyer, but together once more, anything is possible. 

When I open my eyes again, I'm not flying but floating, held aloft by a pair of deceptively strong arms. My own hands are wrapped around someone's neck, my head resting against a bare chest as he walks in long strides. As I turn to squint at my surroundings, I feel something in my back give a sharp snap as the bones re-settle, and I cannot help but moan quietly. 

"Sirius?" I mutter thickly. 

"We're almost home, Remus. You'll be in bed soon." 

"I can walk," I mumble as I note the breathlessness in his voice. I may not be much larger than him, but after so many wasting years in Azkaban, he is no longer as fit as he had been in his youth. 

"Stop that, now," he says, lips quirking into a vague grin so reminiscent of the Sirius Black of old that it makes me want to cry with relief. "If you wanted to walk, you wouldn't have fallen asleep on me." 

"Mmh. You could have woken me up before I drifted off," I grumble. 

Shifting my body carefully, I huddle fast against him. "No, I couldn't have. You'd have bitten my head off, Moony." Even with my eyes shut, I can hear the smile in his voice -- so rare these days, yet always precious and certainly welcomed. 

I try to come up with some sort of snappy comeback, but already I'm floating towards the stars again, unable to pull my eyes open against the heavy drowsiness that threatens to claim me. The stars are beautiful, and so is he, and even though sleep steals me from his arms, I know that he is still there, warm and solid and secure. He is my beacon, my own Dog Star, and I will be his Moon, lighting the way towards our home among the heavens. 

If not now, we'll be there soon. And all will be well once again. 

...owari...


End file.
